His Past, Their Present
by DNAisUnique
Summary: Someone from Mac's past shows up. How does it affect his relationship with Stella?
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for all the support/feedback for my first two CSI:NY fics. You're wonderful! The plot is (hopefully) original. I took a cursory glance through all the Mac/Stella pages and didn't see anything similar in the synopses, but if there are any similarities to other fics, it's completely coincidental (as I am just beginning to read them). If there are similarities, though, please shoot me a line so I can read those stories and make changes to mine. Also, there are no specific spoilers, but anything through Season 5 is fair game. Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Stella Bonasera sipped her coffee as she stared out the kitchen window at the New York skyline, beautiful in the early morning sunlight. If the view was any indication, today was going to be a wonderfully gorgeous day. A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips; she felt as though everything in her life was heading in the right direction. She had wonderful friends, a fulfilling job, good health, a new apartment--new to her, anyway,--

"Good morning," came a baritone voice she'd grown accustomed to.

--and a man she was happy to call her partner, in every sense of the word. Her smile widened as she finished her thought.

He crossed the kitchen and stood behind her. "Have I ever told you I love you in red?" he asked as he gently rested his hand on her hip and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, intentionally missing the strap of her red tank top.

"In red or in _bed, _Big Mac_?_" she teased.

He chuckled and she felt, rather than heard, the rich vibrations course through her body.

"Both, though they just touch the surface of my feelings for you. I'm not a fan of the nickname, though."

Smile at full wattage, she turned in his arms. "I'll make sure not to call you that in public."

He closed the distance between their lips, loving the way they--their lips, as well as in general--fit together. Yin and yang. Everything.

"So good," he sighed when they pulled apart.

"It's the coffee," she informed him, eyes shining as she took a sip from her mug. "Yours is on the counter," she said. "I was going to bring it to you, but I got sidetracked by the view."

"Believe me, the view is better from the outside looking in."

Stella wasn't embarrassed often, but she felt her cheeks flush with heat, and her gaze slipped from his.

He placed his index finger under her chin and tilted her head upward. "I mean every word."

"I know," she said as she cupped his cheek with her free hand. "I'm just not used to hearing it."

"Then I'll have to tell you more often."

This time, their lips met in the middle in a deep, sensual kiss.

The doorbell rang and they reluctantly pulled away from each other.

"You finish getting ready, and I'll get the door," Stella said.

"I'll be right out," Mac replied as he left the kitchen and headed down the hall toward their bedroom.

Stella followed him from the kitchen but turned the opposite direction.

The doorbell pealed again.

"Coming!" she called. She reached the door moments later and glanced through the peep hole. Not believing what--who--she saw, she undid the locks and turned the doorknob.

Stella pulled open the door, her eyes widening further as the woman in the hallway came into full view. Stunned, the coffee mug slipped from Stella's hand and shattered upon impact, sending hot liquid and shards of ceramic in every direction.

"Claire?"

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading! Is it worth continuing?**


	2. Chapter 2

**It's a little later than I said it would be, but I'm hoping you'll forgive me since I spent the better part of Monday night/Tuesday morning in the ER due to dehydration. I'm feeling much better though, thanks to about two gallons of Gatorade, and I'm now glad to bring you chapter two. Thanks for the support for chapter one. So awesome. Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Mouth agape, Stella stared at the woman who'd played a major role in Mac's life a decade ago. She reeled, her brain unable to connect the supposed evidence of the past with its obvious antithesis in the present.

Claire offered a small smile. "Hi, Stella. Long time, no see."

"Uh…yeah," Stella finally muttered, still wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Stella, are you okay?" Mac called, concern in his voice, as he hurried down the hall, dress shirt half-buttoned over his white t. "I heard the crash, and…" he trailed off when he entered the room and saw Stella at the door, the mess on the floor, and a woman who looked very much like his wife.

Stella, finally aware of Mac's presence, turned and met his gaze, though no words were exchanged.

Mac crinkled his forehead in confusion and took a tentative step toward the two women. "Claire?" he asked, his eyes sliding from Stella's to Claire's.

"Mac," she sighed, her smile widening. "Could I come in?"

The initial surprise subsided, and Stella found her voice. "Yeah, sorry," she said as she stepped aside and opened the door wider.

Claire dodged as much of the coffee and broken ceramic as possible as she stepped into the apartment.

"Sorry about that, too," Stella told her as she shut the door. "I didn't expect to see…you."

"No, I can't imagine you would," Claire said, understanding Stella's surprise.

Stella thumbed over her shoulder. "I'm gonna go get something to clean up this mess." She left the room, aware that both Mac and Claire's eyes tracked her movements.

She got a cleaning rag and a small dustpan from under the sink and went to clean up mess. When she walked back into the room, she found Mac and Claire staring awkwardly at each other. Tension crackling through the air, she glanced from Mac to Claire, then back to Mac. Apparently neither had spoken in the short time she was gone, though Mac had finished buttoning his dress shirt. Stella quickly swept the ceramic shards into the dustpan and mopped up the liquid with the rag before going back to the kitchen.

Still Mac and Claire said nothing.

In the kitchen, Stella deposited the contents of the dustpan into the trashcan and rinsed out the rag, careful not to cut herself on any errant ceramic pieces. She wrung out the rag and turned off the water. Outside, sunlight glinted off a window, drawing Stella's attention.

_So much for everything heading in the right direction. _

She sighed wryly at the absurdity of the situation and stared out the window a little longer, lost in her thoughts. Everything had changed in the last ten minutes, and she had no idea what to do.

VVVVV

"So, I like what you've done with the place," Claire said as she looked around the living room, obviously avoiding the main reason for her appearance.

Cautiously, Mac crossed his arms across his chest and eyed Claire. "I really don't have time for this right now. I have to go to work."

"Right, work," Claire sighed and averted her eyes. "It's kind of comforting to know that you haven't changed."

"You're wrong. I had no choice but to change, Claire." Anger. Hurt.

"I know what you're feeling, Mac," Claire said as she moved toward him.

"You can't possibly know what I'm feeling." He paused as he gathered his thoughts. "I'd like you to leave."

Claire stopped in her tracks, surprised and hurt. "But you invited me in."

"You _asked _if you could come in."

"I see," she replied softly. "I guess I can't blame you for not wanting to talk to me." She noticed a notepad and pen next to the phone on the nearby table. She walked to the table, picked up the pen, and quickly wrote on the notepad.

Meanwhile, Mac walked to the door and opened it, waiting for Claire to leave.

Claire slowly made her way to the door and stopped in front of Mac. "If you change your mind, that's the number where I can be reached," she said, indicating the notepad by the phone. "I hope to hear from you."

Mac stared at her expressionless.

Finally, Claire gave Mac a slight nod, then turned and left the apartment.

Mac closed the door behind her, letting his eyes close as his forehead rested against the door.

_This is not good. Definitely not good._

He gave Claire enough time to exit the building, then he grabbed his keys from the key hook by the door and left the apartment, too.

VVVVV

After realizing her slacks were splattered with coffee, Stella headed to the bedroom to change. Though she couldn't hear the conversation going on down the hall, she could tell from Mac's tone of voice that he was angry. No one wanted to face the wrath of angry Mac.

She was still in the bedroom when she heard the apartment door close. Guessing that was Claire leaving, she was surprised to hear the door open and close again a few moments later.

"Mac?" she called.

Silence.

Her eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement, and she turned off the light switch as she left the bedroom and walked down the hall toward the living room. She peeked into the kitchen and noticed Mac's coffee still on the counter, but no Mac.

"Mac?" she called again as she entered the living room.

Also empty.

She noticed his keys were gone from the key hook, and she made a face as her fists landed on her hips.

_What the hell is going on?_

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the support. Sorry for not updating sooner. Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Frustrated by the unnerving events of the morning, Stella made her way to the phone and dialed Mac's number. After hearing one ring in the earpiece, she heard the familiar trilling of his phone. His phone, unfortunately, was in their bedroom.

"Damn it," she said aloud, though no one was in room to hear. She ended the call and went back to the bedroom, upset that Mac had left without her. She finished getting ready, slamming shut the closet door with more force than necessary. Then she grabbed the two cell phones and left the apartment, stopping only to get her keys off the other key hook by the door.

VVVVV

Stella stalked down the halls of the crime lab, a woman on a mission. Mac's office was empty--much like their apartment--and she hoped to find him somewhere else in the lab. Spotting Lindsay in one of the glass-enclosed lab rooms, she quickly pushed open the door.

"Have you seen Mac?"

Lindsay jumped, startled by Stella's sudden appearance.

"Sorry," Stella replied, features softening a little.

"It's okay. I was in 'the zone' and had blocked out all noise. But, no, I haven't seen Mac this morning."

Stella sighed. "If you see him, could you tell him I need to talk to him?"

"Um, sure," Lindsay told her. She studied Stella momentarily. "Is everything okay?"

"I hope so," Stella replied cryptically.

"If you need to talk or anything…" Lindsay began.

"Thanks," Stella said, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips.

They said their 'see you laters,' and Stella headed off to continue her search for Mac. Fifteen minutes later, frustrated and unproductive, Stella made her way to Mac's office, deciding to wait for him there. She sank into his chair with a heavy sigh and stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused and seeing nothing.

That was exactly how Mac found her. "Thought I'd find you here," he told her, his tone light, but forced. "We need to talk."

Stella should have been mad at Mac for leaving their apartment without her, but all she felt was relief upon seeing him and concern because something was troubling him. Stella rose from Mac's chair and joined him on the other side of the desk. "Uh-oh, no good conversation starts with those words. What's going on?"

He sighed and rubbed his face. "I have no idea."

"Mornin', you two," Danny said as he bounded through the door. Easily picking up on the tension between Mac and Stella, he halted and the grin slid from his face. "How's about I just come find you later? Yeah, that's fine," he finished, answering his own question. He was gone as quickly as he appeared.

Stella's eyes tracked back to Mac's, only to find his were already on her.

"I don't want to do this here," Mac said. "Coffee?"

"Are you sure the boss won't mind us taking a coffee break so early?"

His face remained neutral.

"Joke, Mac," Stella sighed as she walked past him out of the office.

He followed silently and they left the building, a mutual understanding that 'coffee' meant the real stuff from a small café around the corner, not the sludge in the break room.

Minutes later, Mac ordered their coffees as Stella waited for an empty table. It seemed as though a big portion of the eight and a half million New Yorkers had decided to have coffee at that moment in that coffee shop, and by the time Mac joined her, she'd all but lost hope of finding a table.

"Walk with me," Mac said as he handed her the coffee.

They zigzagged their way through the maze of people and out into the normal craziness of the New York City morning, merging into the flow of human traffic.

"What about work?" Stella asked as their steps took them in the opposite direction of the lab.

"This needs to be dealt with first," Mac told her.

There were few things in life that made Mac Taylor postpone work. Their current _situation_ definitely qualified as one of those things.

They walked in silence again, sipping their coffee but not tasting it.

"You want to tell me what I did to run you off this morning?" She knew she wasn't at fault--at least, not completely--but in pointing the finger at herself, she hoped he would open up about what was bugging him.

Mac sighed. "It wasn't you. I'm frustrated and confused by what happened this morning. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

Some of the tension eased, and a small smile graced Stella's face. "Apology accepted. I know you're upset, Mac, but the only way we can work on this is if you talk to me." A thought struck her and she pulled his phone from her pocket. "You left this at home."

Their pace slowed and people hurried around them.

"Thanks," he said as he took the phone from her. "It's just so awkward." Mac paused trying to collect his thoughts. "I don't know where to start. I mean, Claire…was my wife."

"Is," Stella corrected, the single word sending an array of emotions coursing through her.

"She's legally dead."

"Yet very much alive."

The words hung heavy in the air, and Mac stopped walking altogether.

"Mac?" Stella questioned, turning when she realized Mac no longer matched her steps.

"For the first time in my life, Stella, I have no idea what to do."

His raw, emotional honesty caught her off guard, and she paused momentarily. "We," she waved her hand between them, "are going to figure this out. Together."

Cell phones buzzed, work suddenly becoming more important than their personal lives. Thout they parted with a quick kiss, each felt that their dynamic was different. Strained. They weren't finished talking.

The rest of the day was a hectic jumble of various cases, though the work had been a welcome distraction for both. Paths not crossing until after midnight, they found themselves staring awkwardly at each other, unsure of what to say.

It was going to be a long night.

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading! **


	4. Chapter 4

**So was it the angst that made the last chapter not-so-popular? :) If so, this chapter isn't going to do much to win back those of you who are anti-angst. I've never written much angst--heck, I've never read much angst--so I have no idea where this is coming from. All I'm asking is that you bear with me as I make these stops in angst-land. Oh, and I wasn't totally happy with chapter 3, so I made some minor changes that, I hope, better the flow of the overall story. Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

The trip home was one of the longest ones they'd experienced--or so it seemed. Emotionally and physically exhausted, no words were spoken. Mac held the door to their apartment open for Stella like he always did, and she passed in front of him and turned to face him.

"So…" Stella began, twisting her fingers anxiously as they stood in the hallway.

"So…" Mac repeated, facing her after securing the locks on the door.

Knowing their stalling tactics wouldn't work much longer, Mac sighed. "This is crazy, Stella. There shouldn't be any weirdness between us."

"You're right. There shouldn't be…but there is, Mac. Supposed deceased spouses popping up unexpectedly tend to put a damper on current relationships." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
"Look, it's late, we're exhausted. Why don't we try to get some sleep and deal with this in the morning?"

"Sleep's not going to be coming anytime soon," Mac admitted.

Green eyes opened slowly, finding his equally tired blue ones. "I know," Stella replied, voice whisper-soft as she turned and trudged down the hall toward their bedroom.

He followed her moments later, surprised when he met her coming back out of the room, pajamas in hand.

"What are you doing?" Mac asked confused.

"I think it's best that I sleep in the guest room tonight, Mac," she said, her hand resting lightly on his chest.

"Stella, no," Mac pleaded, grasping her hand as she tried to pull away. "It's _our _room."

She offered him a sad smile, and her hand slid out of his. "I meant what I said about working through this together, but we need to get our thoughts in order first. Separately."

His eyes clouded over as he watched her sidestep him and go into the guest room, shutting the door behind her. He was in front of the door in only two steps and could have followed her inside, but he respected her and knew she needed time to think. He wasn't happy about it, but he would honor her decision.

He laid his open palm against the cool, wooden door. "I'm not giving up, Stella. On you. On us," he whispered.

Stella--whose own hand was on the door in a mirror image of Mac's--let out a small gasp upon hearing his words, and suddenly, the emotions she'd hidden all day burst to the surface as hot tears sprang to her eyes, immediately threatening to fall.

_Why does loving Mac Taylor hurt so damn much?_

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading. Sorry this chapter is so short; it just seemed like the right place to stop…to me, anyway. :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Long time, huh? I'll try not to let that happen again. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to update this, especially lily moonlight, who has asked on a regular basis--and so nicely, too--for the last two months. **

**Random, but how could I not remember A.J. Buckley being on a season 2 episode of 'Bones?' :D**

**Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Stella's hand slid from the door, and she shuffled to the bed, haphazardly tossing her things onto it as she flopped down ungracefully. She swiped at the few tears that managed to fall, simultaneously feeling everything and nothing. She huffed wryly, remembering the case a few years ago where cryptic messages were hidden within t-shirt designs, and that phrase--everything and nothing--symbolized the number zero. Yeah, zero basically described her mood at the moment.

She glanced toward the door as the floorboards on the other side of it creaked, indicating that Mac had moved away, probably toward their bedroom. And even though spending the night in separate rooms--she didn't refer to it as "sleeping" since she knew neither of them would do much of that--was her idea, a new wave of emotions flooded her. They'd never been home together and _not_ slept in the same bed.

"_I'm not giving up, Stella. On you. On us," _his whispered words echoed in her mind.

She knew he was telling the truth, and that's what made loving him so difficult. She'd typically fought her own battles and wasn't used to people fighting for her. And though she knew she should be happy, she couldn't help feeling like her world was about to be ripped to shreds.

VVVVV

"I'm not giving up, Stella. On you. On us," Mac uttered as he stared at the closed door. He wanted nothing more than to follow her inside, pull her into his arms, and tell her everything would be okay. But the truth was that his world had been turned upside down, and though he hated to admit it, Stella was right in saying they needed some time alone to gather their thoughts. He stood frozen in place a few moments longer, hand still against the door. He sighed heavily as his eyes slipped shut and his chin dropped to his chest. Then, numbly, he stepped away from the door, the floorboards creaking loudly in the otherwise silent apartment.

Minutes later, hot water beat down on his tired body. He felt like he'd aged years in just a day. Twenty-four hours ago, he and Stella had held each other and talked about the future. He could still hear her voice, soft and relaxed. He could smell the perfume she'd put on before dinner, even though they'd stayed home. But most of all, he could still feel her skin on his…

"_Are you awake, Mac?" Stella whispered as she slowly caressed his bare chest._

"_Yeah."_

"_You're awfully quiet. What are you thinking about?"_

"_You. Me. Us."_

_Her hand stilled._

"_What is it, Stel?"_

"_I'm just trying to figure out what I did to deserve you."_

"_I think you got that backwards. I know I'm the lucky one," he told her, his fingers trailing up her arm. "Have I told you that I love you?"_

"_Mmm, not today," she grinned against his chest._

"_Because I do, you know."_

"_Yeah, I know. And I love you, too."_

_He sighed._

"_What?" she asked._

"_Do you want children?"_

"_Woah! Where did _that _come from?" she asked as she tried to wriggle from his grasp._

"_Don't move, Stel, please. I didn't mean to upset you, it's just that we've never talked about it."_

_She obliged, settling back against him. "I don't know, Mac."_

"_You never saw yourself with kids?"_

"_I'd require a man who would be a father to the children." She chuckled wryly. "For years I couldn't even see myself with a man."_

"_And now?" _

"_Now? Now I just enjoy spending every moment with you."_

"_So you don't want kids?"_

"_It's not that I don't want any, I just need time to think about it. Why? Do you want kids?"_

_He shifted, rolling them so that she was on her back gazing up at him. Even in the dimly lit room, he could see her eyes sparkling._

"_I want…you," he breathed as his lips brushed against her._

"_You know this is how babies are made," she sighed happily as his lips trailed down her neck…_

The hot water continued to beat on his back as he reached for his shampoo, and he couldn't help but notice how his products had intermingled with hers, how right it was. He quickly finished his shower, then dried off and donned a pair of pajama pants. He brushed his teeth and padded back into their bedroom, pausing and staring at the bed.

Decision made, he crossed the room and turned off the light before making his way down the hall to the living room. If Stella wouldn't sleep in their bed, then neither would he.

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the feedback and support for all my fic, but especially for "Lucy Goosey." And now at the other end of the spectrum… :D**

**As for a minor fail on my part, I've been rereading some of my fic and noticed some grammar errors. My fic is unbetaed, basically because I'm utterly impatient, and though I go over the 'final' copy multiple times, more errors than I would've liked have slipped through. If you happen to notice any, please point them out, as it's one of my pet peeves, especially in my own work. Thanks!**

**Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Unable and unwilling to sleep, Mac sat hunched forward on the sofa, the weight of the previous day's--by the clock, at least--events seemingly pushing him further into the cushions. The small lamp in the corner of the room cast off a dim glow that barely reached him, yet he'd stared at the small piece of paper--the one on which Claire had written her number--for what seemed like hours. His eyes burned and his back ached from his unfavorable positioning, and he sighed heavily, his eyes finally slipping closed, as he leaned back against the sofa.

"How long are you going to stand there?" he asked, his voice sounding rough in the quiet stillness of the apartment.

A slight gasp escaped through Stella's lips as she pushed away from where she'd been leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, watching him. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I always know where you are, Stella," he told her simply and honestly.

"I got a tracking device embedded in me somewhere?" she said as she passed in front of him. "That's a little creepy," she finished as she sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

He peeked at her through half-closed lids, the look indicating that he was not in the mood for banter.

She sat forward, elbows resting on her knees, and rubbed her hands together apprehensively, trying to decide what to say to him. She took a deep breath and stared at him for a long moment before she spoke.

"What are you doing on the couch?"

"Couldn't stay in there."

"Mac…"

"As long as you're in the guest room, I'm on the sofa. End of story."

"Aren't you being a bit unreasonable?"

"Couldn't I ask you the same thing?" he fired back, eyes popping open as he sat up and turned to face her.

Stella's eyes flashed to his. "What the hell do you want me to do, Mac? Pretend like everything is just fine, that Claire didn't show up at our door? Well, I'm sorry, but I can't do that!"

"You told me earlier that we'd get through this _together_, Stella. We can't do that if we're in different rooms. I know you said that we needed to gather our thoughts separately, and I agreed at first, but I'm confused by this whole thing, and you're the person I go to when I need to sort things out."

"I understand that, Mac, but I think it would be inappropriate to be sleeping with you when we've just found out that your wife is still alive." She glanced down at her hands, her voice lowering as she continued, "I know you said you wouldn't give up on us--"

"You heard that?" Mac asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yeah," she said nodding. "I'm flattered by that, really, Mac, but I don't want you to rule out a relationship with Claire. She _is _your wife. Therefore, I think it's best for both of us if I stay in the guest room for now. I don't want it to be any harder than it already is if you decide that you want to be with Claire."

"Is that what you think I'm going to do, Stella?" Mac asked, surprise and pain evident in his voice. "That I'm going to walk away from you, from what we have?"

"I don't want to influence your decision," she said softly, not answering his question.

"Really? Because it sounds like you're pushing me away, or pulling yourself away, rather."

She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and wiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall. "I'm saying that I love you so much that I'm willing to give up everything so you can be happy." He started to interrupt her, but she held up her hand. "I know you love me, Mac. I'm not denying that. But I also know that you love Claire. I know how you grieved. I remember every time you talked to me, all the times we cried together. I could see how much you missed her, Mac. And now that she's back, I think it's necessary that you consider the possibility of having a future with Claire."

"Stella…" his voice broke.

"I won't hold it against you if you choose her," Stella told him with a weak smile. "Yeah, it'll hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but I'm a big girl. I'll respect any decision you make." She glanced at the piece of paper he clutched in his hand, then locked her eyes with his. "You should call her, Mac."

They gazed at each other a moment longer, then Stella reached forward and picked up the remote from the table and turned on the TV.

"What are you doing?" Mac asked.

"If you won't sleep in a bed, then neither will I," she replied, leaning back against the sofa.

"I'd sleep in the bed if you'd come with me."

"You're stubborn, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one."

She couldn't argue with that, and they fell silent as the canned laughter exploded as the result of the antics on the black-and-white comedy.

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the continued support for this and my other fics. Apologies for not yet replying to the reviews for the last 'Lucy' chapter. A little less angst this chapter… :D Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Light filtered through the blind-covered window, and Mac's eyes slid open slowly, immediately aware of the crick in his neck from his awkward sleeping position. More importantly though, he was also aware that Stella was curled against him. That alone was worth all the physical pain in the world. At some point during the night, they'd moved to the middle of the sofa. Together. Natural. Right. He didn't move right away, wanting the moment to last. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathe, feeling her body shift against his with every breath.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

And that moment confirmed what he'd known since they'd become 'official.' That he not only wanted her, but he _needed_ her.

"I'm not giving up on us," he whispered eventually, repeating the sentiment from just a few hours before. He shifted slightly, watching her as best as he could, given their close proximity. Then he softly kissed the top of her head and slid from the sofa, careful not to wake her. He stood and stretched, his muscles burning because of the ill-treatment. But he'd do it all again if it meant waking up next to her. Still, he'd rather that be in their bed…

The TV was still on, and after a half-hearted search for the remote came up empty, he walked the short distance across the room and turned it off. He heard movement behind him and turned to look at her.

"Mac…" she mumbled in her sleep.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he watched her sleep a few moments longer. She was dreaming about him; that had to be a good thing.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

VVVVV

Stella awoke a short time later, confused as to why she was on the sofa as opposed to being in the bed. She sat up and rubbed her hands over her face as memories of her early-morning talk with Mac came flooding back. The whole situation was so frustrating. Their conversation replayed in her head. She meant what she said about respecting his decision, but was he right? Was she pulling away from him?

She heard Mac's muffled voice from somewhere down the hall; their bedroom, she assumed. She sighed and looked at the clock, jumping up when she realized how late it was. She hurried down the hall and into the bedroom, drawing Mac's attention as she grabbed some clothes from the closet and hurried into the bathroom to shower.

"Yes, I'll see you there. 12:30," Stella heard him say before ending the conversation.

The quick shower did little to wash away the rough night, but after a cup of coffee, she'd face the day whether she wanted to or not. She studied her reflection in the mirror, sighing when she didn't like what she saw. She was pale--for her, anyway--and the dark circles under her eyes were quite obvious. She sighed again and did her best to hide the darkness with concealer, then finished the rest of her makeup.

She got dressed and headed for the kitchen, intent on getting that cup of coffee.

Mac sat at the table and looked up when she entered. "Morning."

"Morning," she replied as she poured her coffee. "Sleep well?"

"I'm guessing about as well as you did." He paused for a moment and studied her. "I called Claire. We're meeting for lunch."

Stella had insisted he call her, yet she couldn't help the lump that formed in her throat. "That's good," she said, refusing to look at him.

He stood and walked to her where she leaned against the counter. "I want you to come with me," he told her softly, taking her hand in his.

"Yeah, that'd go over like a ton of bricks," she snorted sarcastically, still unwilling to meet his gaze.

"Damn it, Stella," he spat, frustrated rather than angry. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" she repeated incredulously, finally looking at him. "What's wrong is that everything has changed." Her voice softened as she realized how much this was affecting him. "I'm glad you're meeting her for lunch, Mac. Really. I just can't be there when you do. Lot of weirdness, you know?" she offered a weak smile.

"Fair enough," Mac replied, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I just felt you should know that I want you there."

"Thank you," she told him, squeezing his hand.

He held onto her hand a moment longer, his eyes searching hers. He desperately wanted--no, _needed_--to kiss her, but he knew she wasn't ready for that, so he let her hand fall from his, immediately missing the contact. "We'd better go or we'll be late for work."

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for the reviews/favorites/alerts. **

**For lily moonlight and piper maru duchovny. **

**Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

"So what have you got for me, Sid?" Stella said upon entering Autopsy.

"Good morning to you, too, Stella," Sid replied lightly, his eyes still focused on the 23-year-old male on the autopsy table between them.

When the usual cheery response didn't come from Stella, Sid glanced at her over the top rim of his glasses. "Are you okay? You look…like something's bothering you."

"The vic?" Stella asked with a sigh.

"Right," Sid replied, clearing his throat. "I'm just getting started here, so there's not much to tell you at the moment. Did manage to get an I.D.," he told her, indicating a file folder on a nearby table.

She walked to the table, picking up and opening the folder, quickly scanning what little information there was. "Thanks anyway, Sid. Call me as soon as you know more," she said as she laid the folder back on the table and headed back toward the exit.

"Stella…" Sid called before she reached the door. "I'm not one to pry, but if you ever need to talk or anything, my door's always open. In the metaphorical sense, of course, given that the actual odor in Autopsy can be quite wicked."

"Sid!" Stella exclaimed curtly, not in the mood to listen to one of his eccentric tangents.

"Uh, sorry," he mumbled hastily. "Forgive the terrible analogy. My point is that one's olfactory sense has nothing to do with me being a good listener."

Sensing that Sid was taken aback by her snippy reprimand, she quickly muttered her own apology as she turned to face him. She studied him as he studied her, then, before she realized what was happening, the words began tumbling from her lips. "Claire showed up at our door yesterday morning," she said softly.

"Claire?"

"Claire Taylor. Mac's wife."

"You saw Claire's ghost?"

"Not a ghost," she told him.

Mouth agape, Sid struggled to find words. "But she's…"

"Alive."

"Wow," Sid whispered, leaning against the autopsy table in an effort to steady himself. "That's quite the bomb you dropped there, Stella."

"Yeah, tell me about it," she huffed, forehead crinkling as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I opened the door and saw her standing there, then proceeded to drop and shatter my coffee mug."

"That's understandable. What I don't understand is how or why she's back."

"No one knows yet, but Mac's meeting her for lunch today. I'm sure he'll find out then."

"But you and Mac are okay?" he asked, removing his gloves and joining her on the other side of the autopsy table.

"I don't know what Mac and I are, Sid," she told him honestly, voice shaky. A tear quickly made its way down her cheek, and she swiped at it furiously. "Damn it!" she exclaimed as another tear tracked down her cheek, then another, and another.

Then Sid pulled her into his embrace and held her as she cried.

Eventually, Stella pulled back, wiping at the wetness on his scrub top. "Sorry about that, Sid," she said with a sniffle.

"Hey, I'll take tears over blood and brain matter any day. Those last two are murder on clothing."

He always knew what to say to make her laugh, even if it was macabre. Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and ushered her into his infrequently-used office so they'd have somewhere to sit.

Stella sniffled again as she sat in one chair, Sid in the other.

"Okay, so what's going on with you and Mac?"

Stella filled him in on all of the events since the previous morning. Sid listened intently, nodding in understanding, but remained silent.

"And I don't want to be pushy, you know?" she said.

Sid bit back a chuckle, but not before Stella saw his tiny grin. "What?"

"Nothing, just thinking," he lied.

"Sid Hammerback…" she warned.

"Okay, okay. Now don't get mad, but in all the years we've known each other, I've never known you to _not_ be pushy."

"This is different, Sid. Very different."

"The situation might be different, but the 'Rules of Stella' still apply."

A mini-eye-roll and a tiny smirk later, she scrutinized him, amused.

"You're fiery and passionate about everything you do, Stella," Sid continued. "That's how you got to where you are today. You got the things you wanted because you worked for them, and you didn't let people stand in your way."

"But she's Mac's wife…"

"_Was_," Sid stressed. "Okay, it's admittedly a little more complicated now that we know she's not dead…" he offered upon seeing the look on her face. He shifted in his chair and tried a different tactic. "Think of it this way: what if you'd been…away, and came back to find Mac with another woman. Do you think she would be so quick to give him up?"

"I…"

"Once you found out there was another woman, you'd expect a fight, an epic battle, vying for the man you love. She wouldn't throw in the towel just because you're back in the picture." He paused, his demeanor softening as he allowed his words to sink in. "If you want a future with him, you've got to fight, Stella. Show Mac that you love him."

"He knows I love him."

"But you have to _show _him. From what you've told me, it sounds like he's made the decision to be with you, that he's 'not giving up' on the relationship the two of you have. And if he's fighting for you, shouldn't you do the same for him?"

Stella cocked her head to the side and studied him. "You know what, Sid? You're absolutely right. Why am I not fighting for the man I love?" She smiled--really smiled--for the first time since the previous morning and stood, pulling Sid into a warm, thankful embrace. "You're a real friend, Sid," she said as she pulled away and moved toward the door. "I'll let you know how it turns out."

"I'm sure you will," he smiled after her. "Hey, Stella, I know people think I only observe the dead, but I watch the living, too. I've known you and Mac for quite some time, and I can say that I've never seen either of you so happy as when you're together."

Stella smiled again. "I know. And thanks for reminding me. I still want to know when you've got something else on the vic."

"That's the 'pushy Stella' I was talking about," he smirked as she rolled her eyes again and left his office, pulling her phone from her pocket.

Sid listened to the staccato click of her heels as she crossed the main room in Autopsy and opened the door leading into the hallway. He smiled to himself as he heard her speak.

"_Mac, it's me."_

**VVVVV **

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for all the support for this. Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I forgot I had this chapter ready until I found it on the computer the other day. **

**Thanks to **_**lily moonlight**_** for looking over this a *long* time ago and offering suggestions for improvement. **

**Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Mac stared out his office window, seeing the city, but not really taking it in. 12:30 was a long time away, but that wasn't what consumed his thoughts. Even work was just a tiny blip on the radar of his mind.

Stella.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. And in truth, he didn't want to. A deep ache engulfed him, and he wanted to make things right between them. The only thing was, he didn't know how.

Flack tapped his knuckles on the glass door of Mac's office, but didn't wait for permission to enter. "Mac, you okay?" Flack asked as the door closed behind him. "Danny said something's going on with you and Stell, but he didn't want to pry."

With tired eyes, Mac peered over at his friend. "So he sent you?"

"You're not my boss," Flack said jokingly before turning serious. You two okay? Hit a rough patch or something?"

Mac rubbed the back of his head as he often did when he was bothered by something. "You could say that," Mac sighed.

"Hey, whatever it is, it'll pass." Flack studied his friend for a moment, watching as Mac continued to rub the back of his head. "I know it's not our usual style and all, but you wanna talk about it?"

Really, Mac didn't; he just wanted things to go back to normal and for this whole _mess _to be over. Yet, somehow he found himself talking. "Claire's back."

"Like a ghost?" Flack asked, only half jokingly. He'd seen some weird things during his days with the NYPD. The look Mac gave him snuffed the ghost theory. "You don't mean…"

"Yeah, Don. Claire is alive."

Flack's eyebrows raised in question, and he shook his head disbelievingly. "Wow, I, uh, don't know what to say."

Mac chuckled wryly. "There's not really anything you can say."

"So," Flack started as he flopped down in the chair in front of Mac's desk, "why?"

"I have no idea. She showed up at the door yesterday morning and wanted to talk. I was so shocked to see her…"

"No shit," Flack uttered, still trying to wrap his mind around the information. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Did she say where she'd been all this time?"

"I didn't give her the chance. I was too angry."

"Angry?" That wasn't the reaction Flack thought Mac would have.

The two friends, like most men, weren't accustomed to talking about things like emotions and relationships, but there they were.

"Yeah," Mac replied, his voice strained. "I was finally able to move past aching for her, then she shows up. Alive. Do you know what it feels like to find out your dead wife isn't really dead?"

Raw pain flashed across Flack's features, and he looked down at the floor. Jess. He knew what it felt like to ache for someone. He knew what it felt like to be so consumed with someone and have that person ripped away far too soon. He knew…

"God, Don, I'm sorry," Mac sputtered upon seeing his friend's clouded features. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, I'm good," Flack said, clearing his throat and forcing the emotion out of his voice. He missed Jess everyday, but he wasn't there in Mac's office for himself. "So, I'm guessing this has put a rift between you and Stell."

"To say the least," Mac sighed, now rubbing his neck. "We ended up on the couch last night--well, this morning--because she wouldn't sleep in our room, and I couldn't sleep in there without her."

"So you're both sore because you're stubborn?" Flack said, noting Mac's incessant rubbing of his head and neck. "Yeah, I can see that," Flack nodded. "What are you gonna do?"

Mac sighed. "I'm supposed to meet Claire for lunch. She left her number in case I changed my mind and wanted to talk."

"And you did," Flack said. It wasn't a question.

"That's the thing, I didn't. I don't. Stella was the one who talked me into calling Claire. She said that I needed to think about the possibility of a future with Claire."

"_Stella_ said that?" Flack asked as he sat up, obviously surprised.

"And that she'd let me go if that's what it took for me to be happy."

"Damn," Flack shook his head, "that's quite a woman you've got there, Mac."

"Yeah, only I can't convince her that she's the one I want to be with."

"Don't kill me for what I'm about to say," Flack muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Maybe Stella's right."

"Why is everyone trying to convince me that I don't love Stella?" Mac exploded, slamming his hand down on the desk, the force of the impact sending a pen bouncing and clattering to the floor.

"Look, Mac, I'm not saying you don't love Stella," Flack said, holding his hands up in defense. "I see the way you two look at each other, especially when you think no one's watching. Hell, sometimes it's even nauseating. But I'm happy for both of you." He paused briefly, thinking about how he wanted to phrase his next thought. "I just think you should hear what Claire has to say and be happy she's alive, you know?"

"I know," Mac said, closing his eyes in an effort to calm himself. "And I am. It was just…a shock to see her standing there yesterday. But why come back now, after all these years?"

"That's what you'll find out at lunch."

"Yeah," Mac uttered as his phone rang. He looked at the display.

"Stella?" Flack questioned.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"Goofy grin," Flack chuckled and stood up as the phone rang again. "You've got it every time she's around, even when you're fighting."

"We're not fighting," Mac stated, the phone ringing a third time.

"Let me know how everything turns out," Flack said as he pushed open the door.

Mac shook his head and answered the phone. "Hey."

"_Mac, it's me."_

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's with your support that I've been able to keep writing. **

****Because of the content, this chapter was one of the most difficult ones I've ever written. It deals with the events of September 11, 2001, so please be advised.****

**For csiAngel, who requested this, and lily moonlight, who always takes time to offer feedback and suggestions about things which never crossed my mind but are so valuable to the plot, and for always encouraging me, even when I'm not feeling confident.**

**Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Mac paused just outside the sandwich shop, a smile on his face as he replayed the last part of his phone call with Stella:

"_Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"_

"_This is something that _you_ need to do, Mac. Besides, someone's got to be working." _

_He chuckled at the teasing tone in her voice. "I love you, Stella."_

"_I know, Mac," she said. "And I love you, too."_

"_See you later."_

"_Yes, you will."_

Mac drifted back into the present, knowing that he and Stella would be okay. But first he had to clear up things with Claire. He pulled open the door to the sandwich shop and scanned the patrons, looking for Claire. He found her in the corner booth at the back of the shop, the one that offered the most privacy.

She smiled and stood as he neared. She hugged him and kissed his cheek, pulling away awkwardly when he didn't respond. Her cheeks burned with something akin to embarrassment, and she cleared her throat as she sat back down and motioned for him to take the seat opposite her.

"Thank you for coming, Mac," she said eventually. That wasn't really how she wanted to begin the conversation, but so far all they'd done was sit across from each other, uneasiness hanging heavy in the air, avoiding eye contact. Further silence ensued, and she took it to mean that he wasn't yet ready to talk. He was waiting for her to continue. "I wasn't sure you'd call."

"You have Stella to thank for that."

"Right," Claire replied a bit sarcastically, wiping away an invisible speck from the table. "You always did listen to her."

"Don't make this about her, Claire," Mac bristled. He shook his head and sighed as he slid to the edge of the bench. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to this."

"Mac, wait," Claire pleaded, her hand shooting out and landing on his arm in an effort to stop him. "You're right," she said, wishing he would look at her. "That wasn't fair and I apologize."

He couldn't meet her gaze though; his eyes were glued to where her fingers grasped his arm. Hands that he once longed to hold again now felt foreign. Wrong.

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress interrupted, pulling a pen and order pad from the front pocket of her apron.

Startled by the waitress's sudden appearance, Mac jerked his arm away from Claire's grasp as though he'd been burned. Neither he nor the waitress missed the look of hurt that passed over Claire's face.

"I can come back," the waitress suggested.

"No, we're ready," Mac replied quickly, clearing his throat and indicating with a motion of his hand that Claire should order first.

They ordered simple things, and the waitress assured them it wouldn't be long. Then she was gone, and the blanket of tension once again settled over them.

Claire studied the tabletop and swept away more invisible particles, unable to deny the feelings of hurt that bubbled up inside of her. She'd imagined this conversation over a thousand times, never once considering that he'd react the way he had yesterday and today. Mac had shunned her touch twice in the last five minutes. She decided being kicked in the stomach would hurt less.

Mac said nothing, not knowing where to begin. He had so many unanswered questions, but he was still trying to wrap his mind around the reality that Claire was sitting across from him. As her eyes focused on the tabletop, he took a few moments to study her. Her hair was shoulder-length, shorter than she'd worn it in all the years he'd known her, and it was darker than he remembered. Time had added lines to her face, of course, but she was still an attractive woman. The years had changed her eyes though. Once vibrant and happy, the now-dull orbs reflected a deep sadness. He knew because he'd seen the same look in his own eyes for many years after Claire…died? Left him?

Claire glanced up at him as a look of confusion passed across his face. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I suppose I owe you an explanation," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

"To say the least," he replied wryly. He was trying to be understanding, but seeing her after all that time was so shocking. Ultimately though, she'd lied to--or at the very least deceived--him, and he couldn't help feeling hurt and betrayed. And angry. The latter was evident in his expression and tone. "What I want to know is…why?"

"Why are you mad?" she questioned, her forehead wrinkling. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"I am happy to see you," Mac sighed, anger dissipating only slightly.

"You've got a odd way of showing it."

The waitress silently put their drinks on the table and quickly moved away. She'd worked there long enough to know when people didn't want to be bothered.

"Did you ever wish things were different, Mac?" she mused, her gaze again falling from his.

"Of course, I did," he told her. "Every day for years I wished things were different. I wished you were alive, that you hadn't gone to work that day…that I could have done something to protect you."

"I'm sorry, Mac," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. "So, so sorry."

"It's obvious that you're not dead, so why'd you leave?" he pressed, asking the question for the second time. Usually he was most concerned with the 'how,' but this was far different than anything he'd dealt with on a professional level. This was personal.

She sighed. "It sounds silly and childish now."

"I still deserve to know."

"I got lonely."

Mac shook his head, disbelievingly. "You _'got lonely_?'"

"You were always working, Mac," she admitted, the words sounding lame, even to her own ears.

"As an officer of the law for the NYPD! When I took this job, we both knew that it would be time-consuming. We talked about it." His eyes slipped shut, and he rubbed his tired eyes with the pads of his thumb and index finger. He never expected to hear _that_.

"Yeah, but I never knew just how much time it would take...until you weren't there."

Mac scoffed and continued to shake his head, his hand sliding from his face. "I can't believe what I'm hearing, Claire! Did you ever think about how disrespectful you've been to those who died that day and to all who have died since because they were fighting for what they thought was right?"

Claire quickly glanced around the shop at the other patrons and ducked her head. "Mac, people are staring."

"I'm past the point of caring whether people are staring."

"Anger's not going to solve anything," Claire snapped in response, feeling slightly irritated herself.

"There's nothing to solve. For eight years you let people who loved you believe that you were dead. _Eight_ _years_." Anger eventually transformed into sadness, and he finally lowered his voice. "We had good years together, Claire, but I've moved on." His expression softened as he thought about how he'd been able to move past Claire's…death--and who had helped him. "I'm happy again."

A sad smile settled on Claire's lips as well, and she forced herself to look at him, though his admittance that he'd moved on was more difficult to hear than she could have imagined. Not that she expected him to be alone forever. "I realize now that I made a mistake when I left you. But we got married so young, Mac, and I felt like I'd missed out on seeing the world. I was selfish and I'll forever regret that."

"When you say it like that, it's almost as if you wanted a divorce."

Claire squirmed in her seat and became quite interested in the bubbles in her drink.

Surely not. "Claire?"

She drew in a deep breath and wrapped her hands around her glass in an effort to stop them from shaking. "I was at work that day, but I managed to get out. I'd been contemplating asking for a divorce for a while, but I knew you'd never agree to it, that you'd manage to convince me to stay."

"I'm not manipulative," Mac quietly told her.

"I didn't mean it like that, Mac." When he didn't reply, she continued. "When the Towers fell, I don't know…I panicked and fled. I guess I saw it as a sign that I was supposed to go."

Now he was the one who felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "People don't 'get signs' that they're supposed to leave the ones they love."

She swirled the straw in her drink, watching the ice as it spun inside the glass.

His gaze was drawn to the glass as well, and he didn't know why, but he actually felt sorry for her. "But that's in the past, and there's nothing we can do about it now."

His response wasn't what she expected, and she glanced up at him wide-eyed, the straw slipping from her fingers and continuing to circle the inside of the glass.

"Did you see the world?" he asked, as though it was a normal conversation topic.

She chuckled and visibly relaxed. "Hardly."

"Why not?"

"World traveling alone?"

Mac arched an eyebrow at her.

"Ironic, isn't it? I left because I felt alone, and I've been nothing but alone since."

"Mind if I ask where you've been?" He felt he _needed_ to know.

She shrugged. "Little Podunk town in eastern Tennessee. If I ever see that much orange again…"

Mac chuckled. "Tennessee?"

Claire shrugged again, this time adding facial expressions. "I went until I couldn't go any further."

"Does your family know? Your parents?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"They need to know, Claire," he said caringly.

"Yeah," she agreed, sighing deeply. "It should be easier telling them."

Mac nodded noncommittally but took a moment to gather his thoughts. Finally, he said, "Why come back after all these years?"

"It's like I said before; I realized I'd made a mistake when I left. I still love you, you know."

"Claire…"

"No, it's okay, Mac. I came back here with the hope of getting back together with you, but now I see how wrong that would be. It hurts to admit it, but you're right, we've both changed; we're not the same people we were eight years ago," she said, pausing for a single beat. "I am glad you've been able to find happiness, Mac. Stella's to thank for that, too?"

"Yeah."　

"I really am sorry. This couldn't have been easy on her either."

"She was prepared to stand beside me, even if my decision had been to be with you."

Mac's phone rang at that moment, and he pulled it from his pocket, an apology etched on his features as he answered it. The conversation was quick, and he soon tucked away his phone.

"Work?" Claire asked.

"Guess this is what you meant when you said I worked all the time." His words weren't said with anger, but rather with the realization and understanding that things happen for a reason.

"Your work is noble, Mac," she said with a genuine smile. "I just hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me for all the pain and heartache I caused you."

Mac stood and pulled his wallet from his pocket. "It was good to see you, Claire. I mean that."

"I know you do," she smiled. "Don't worry about lunch; it's on me."

"No, I insist," he told her, putting the money on the table. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote a phone number on a napkin. "Call him. I think he'll want to meet you."

"Who is it?" she asked, brows crinkling as she glanced up at Mac.

"Your son."

She gasped as her left hand flew to cover her mouth. "My…son?"

Mac nodded. "His name's Reed. He came looking for you a few years ago."

Her hand slid to her cheek, and she wiped away a tear that had already managed to fall. "And you had to tell him that I was dead?"

Mac nodded again and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"But you stayed in contact with him?" she choked out, now looking through teary eyes at the number on the napkin.

"He needed a friend," Mac said simply. "Some things are best left in the past, Claire, but maybe it's not too late for a relationship with him."

She stared at the number a bit longer before looking up at Mac. "Thank you."

He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze, then he was gone. He stopped just before he reached the door and glanced back at Claire who remained unmoved, still clutching the napkin in her hands. The smile that he wore when he arrived returned as he left the shop. He was grateful for his past with Claire, but that's where his relationship with her belonged--in the past. He knew without a doubt that his present--and future--was with Stella.

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading! One more chapter to go. **

**Oh, and no offense was meant by Claire's comment about Tennessee or orange. I'm a native Tennessean, *the* biggest Tennessee fan, and I love *everything* orange. Seriously.**


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